


something (roly-poly remixed)

by flailingthroughsanity



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flailingthroughsanity/pseuds/flailingthroughsanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myungsoo really likes to see his boyfriend’s thighs in action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something (roly-poly remixed)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not entirely new to writing smut, but this is the first time I've written an entire work just for smut and okay, so please bear with the unrealistic (?) portrayal. I'm still learning the ropes, and I'd appreciate any criticism you can give me! I also cannot believe that I wrote this while re-watching the first Pokemon series...
> 
> This is not necessarily a sequel, but it is an expanded arc of my other work "roly-poly".

Myungsoo doesn’t know how it all started.

Actually, that’s a lie, he does but he’d like to feign innocence (no matter how false it is, but hey, if he can get away with it, why not?) that it wasn’t him that instigated it.

That’s another lie right there, yessirree but still, he’s not saying anything. Like the exaggerated acting of policemen in those American reruns he sometimes watches, Myungsoo has the right to remain silent.

Although it’s quite hard to remain silent when your boyfriend is fucking the living loving shit out of you.

∞

Like ( ~~every~~ ) any sexual escapade ( ~~in Myungsoo’s life~~ ), it all starts with making out.

It was the first week of September — a time when winter starts bearing down from the northern skies, when the colours start to fade into auburn and when nights start to get a little cold. It’s a Saturday evening, when the sun is at the point of sundown, the fading orange light clashing with the darkening blue beyond it and the city-lights starting to outshine it.

He’s on the couch of their shared apartment, rather, he’s on Howon, who is _on_ the couch of their shared apartment. There’s a rerun of a drama playing on the television but Myungsoo can’t seem to recall the title of it (Reply 1997, his brain somehow supplies — and he remembers watching it because one of the characters look like Howon), not when Howon is determined to map out his throat.

With his teeth.

And damn it to hell if that didn’t feel _good_.

Myungsoo arches as Howon holds him closer, hears himself keening as Howon’s teeth glide across his skin like needles and Myungsoo sends a prayer to God for sending him this amazing guy with an _amazing_ mouth—

“’Soo,” Howon whispers and Myungsoo shivers at the way his name rolls off those lips and it should really be illegal for Howon to have that mouth (to have that everything actually).

Myungsoo lets his head flop, settling it against the curve of Howon’s shoulder as the man’s hands start to wander past their grip on his hips. Howon has big hands with long, thick fingers and the way each one of them pad across the thin cloth of his pyjamas (yes, he did spend the entire day at home, thank you very much) has gooseflesh trailing in their wake.

He’s content to lay there, let Howon do whatever he wants, as he plants kisses on his boyfriend’s neck. It was one of his favorite parts (somewhere between Howon’s eyes and Howon’s arms) and he thinks it’s because it’s where Howon smells the strongest, where he can take in Howon’s scent. It’s not particularly fragrant or unpleasant, but it has a distinct scent — it reminds him of smoke and vinyl floors for some reason — and it makes Myungsoo’s already questionable brain into mush.

Hands grip his thighs and Myungsoo’s pulled up and Howon’s eyes are there and they’re kissing.

He also kinds of notices that the television is now off, but he files it away as Howon’s lips take the number one position for current priority.

The kiss isn’t delicate or beautiful in any way, it’s not something that would inspire a Jane Austen novel, and it’s not something you’d see in movies. It’s sloppy, there’s more breathing than kissing, but it intoxicates Myungsoo so much that he could care less that a trickle of Howon’s saliva is running down his chin.

“Open your mouth,” Howon whispers and goddamn it’s so sexy that Myungsoo just moans and obeys, feeling Howon’s tongue and for some reason (he tastes like coffee, like the one he had just drank an hour ago), even though his brain supplies that it’s quiet an unsanitary practice, Myungsoo feels himself getting more aroused.

He’s locked Howon in his embrace, his arms tight around his boyfriend’s shoulders while Howon’s hands are gripping his thighs tightly, the coil of his fingers against his skin sending slivers of pleasure across his being.

Kissing Howon is almost ( _almost_ ) as good as having sex with him. Myungsoo doesn’t really get it, but he thinks it’s the way Howon leads him into, the way Howon grunts and whispers orders and Myungsoo, like the obedient little pleaser that he is, follows without question. It makes for a really unusual, but very stimulating experience because Howon always likes to spice it up, always likes to change things, always likes to play with his need like a harpist.

It’s infuriating but it’s the best kind of infuriating and Myungsoo is a little slut for it.

“How—on,” he manages to cry out in broken gasps as Howon’s hips suddenly push against his and the aching in between his legs is suddenly front and center in his mind. Howon grunts, deep and guttural and Myungsoo wants to hear it again, needs to hear it again and he makes a circular motion with his hips, rubbing his clothed erection against Howon’s jeans and Myungsoo thinks it’s a bad idea as he feels like blacking out at the frissons of _ohmygodsogoodyeah_ zap like lightning across every nerve in his body—

And he suddenly finds himself lying _on_ the couch now, and Howon’s on top of him and there’s sweat dripping from his forehead and his dark hair is askew and messy and wet and—

Howon’s tongue is suddenly all that Myungsoo knows.

Myungsoo whimpers as Howon kisses him long and deep, a kiss that will leave both of them bruising and he doesn’t care, not when Howon is breathing this hard, not when his hands are fisting the top of his pyjamas, not when his _own_ hands are moving down, past Howon’s back and down to Howon’s ass and if that isn’t the greatest ass he’s ever seen, he’d be lying.

Well, not technically, but he can’t really think of someone else’s ass when his boyfriend is giving him the kiss of a lifetime.

Myungsoo’s hands hold fast to the curve of Howon’s ass, looking for stability when Howon is making him feel like drowning and Howon moans in his mouth and it makes his tongue shiver and Myungsoo knows that Howon likes his ass played with (and wasn’t that  shocker to know the first time they had sex).

Realizing that Howon was purposefully keeping his hands still, Myungsoo doesn’t hesitate in  pushing his hands under Howon’s jeans and he feels the tight clasp of his boxers and just from the velvety feel alone, Myungsoo knows that it’s his favorite pair (the one he first saw Howon in) and Myungsoo makes an approving sound in his throat.

He lets his hands roam across the expanse of Howon’s ass, as much as he could, and Howon wiggles and his hands are on the button of his jeans and Myungsoo wants to cheer in victory as Howon pulls his jeans down.

It’s a bit ridiculous, if the scene weren’t so hot, the way Howon tries to pull himself out of his jeans. With the way he was on top of Myungsoo, both his hands on his pants, locked only with Myungsoo’s lips to keep balanced, it was a bit difficult for him to take his pants off. Not one to let anyone needing help left ignored, Myungsoo pulls his hands out of Howon’s boxers and helps him pull it off, the rough denim clashing with the smoother skin underneath as his hands skim down Howon’s muscled thighs.

_Thank you Jesus, Allah, Buddah and Park Geun-hye!_

Suddenly there it is, and Myungsoo breaks eye-contact with Howon to stare at his thighs — which is, arguably, his most favorite part of Howon. His most favorite part, something that annoyed and turned him on in the best ways possible: with the way they clenched and relaxed as Howon and Woohyun play soccer at the park, the way they moved and flexed as Howon sometimes dances in their living room and best of all, the way they feel against his own as Howon drills him long, hard and _good_.

But it’s just one part of Howon’s glory and Myungsoo wraps his hands around Howon’s shirt, intending to see Howon laid bare in front of him. Howon breaks the kiss, chuckles a bit, before he sits back up, straddling Myungsoo’s hips as he pulls the shirt over his head and _wow was that a sight_ and Myungsoo blinks, watching Howon’s abs clench as his arms straighten to pull the shirt over his head.

With his back straight, Howon’s body arches into Myungsoo’s direction and his eyes fall down on the bulge in Howon’s boxers and—there it is, the number one contender for “best Howon body part”.

Without thinking (obviously), Myungsoo reaches a hand out to caress the bulge and he bites his lip at the moan that escapes Howon’s throat, at the way his body shakes and trembles, the ab muscles clenching and _goddamn_ the way those thigh muscles struggle with holding Howon up.

Howon finally manages to pull the shirt off and he throws it somewhere overhead and Myungsoo doesn’t really care, not when Howon’s gripping his hand and guiding it back to his cock, straining against the velvet cloth of his boxers and Myungsoo finds it funny that he’s still surprised at how _big_ Howon is down there and he grips it and feels Howon’s hips pushing against his hand and it’s not until Howon’s free hand is making its way down between Myungsoo’s own legs that he realizes that he’s been ignoring his own arousal.

When Howon’s hand grips him through the pyjamas, Myungsoo unconsciously bucks his hips upward as a desperate, needy sound escapes his mouth and he’s almost surprised by it, by how wanton he sounds.

“Myung—soo—ah, yeah, there…” Howon whispers, his voice hoarse and wearing away at the seams of Myungsoo’s sanity and control and Myungsoo pulls Howon’s boxers down, doesn’t even bother pulling them down all the way before he’s greeted with the sight of Howon’s erection.

Howon’s cock is like any other guy’s, although his slightly bigger at the head and thicker and it’s darker than the rest of Howon’s skin, save for the red-purple pulsating on the head and Myungsoo leans forward, letting his nose nuzzle against it, inhaling the purity of Howon’s scent.

He only has a moment to admire it, admire the redness covering the head, before Howon moves and it’s in his mouth and _yesyesyesgodyesyes_ and Howon is grunting over and over, Myungsoo’s name like a litany on his lips.

Myungsoo isn’t really a virgin when it comes to sex. He’s had his fair share of boyfriends, and he’s learned a thing or two. With Howon, Myungsoo realizes that oral sex is just as good as anal sex and he learns that Howon just loves to watch Myungsoo take him down, take his length—all of it—down his throat. He muses that it might be something about control but he really doesn’t mind it, not when he gets to see those muscles clench and relax a mere few inches away, not when Howon’s sounds are what fuels his wet dreams and bathroom jerk-off sessions every other day, not when the way Howon trembles empowers Myungsoo with so much desire, so much want over his boyfriend.

His own arousal strains against his underwear but Myungsoo doesn’t pay it any attention — not now, at least. He knows that Howon loves to give just as much as he loves to receive (and his eyes sort of fogs at remembering that one time Howon rimmed him and the way he came so hard he actually cried) but right now, just now, all he wants is Howon.

Howon, who was biting his own fist, stifling his delicious cries. Howon, whose beautiful, sinful body was in abject display above him, the afternoon light painting streaks of orange against his tan skin. Howon, Howon, Howon.

Myungsoo laps against the head of Howon’s cock, and it’s Howon who whimpers this time, and Myungsoo’s hands reach behind him to grab his bare ass and Howon stops biting his fist and grabs the armrest of the couch with both of them. Howon’s hips falter in their movement, as if he doesn’t know what to do—as if he doesn’t know if he should push forward into Myungsoo’s open mouth or back into Myungsoo’s hands and he looks like he’s about to go mad with the decision so Myungsoo makes it for him.

With his hands, Myungsoo pushes Howon into his mouth, the head straining down his throat and his eyes water and he feels like puking but he relaxes, reigns it in and he pushes Howon in some more until his nose is buried in Howon’s pubes.

Myungsoo swirls his tongue, intent on tracing every bump on Howon’s cock, on each straining vein circling around it.

Howon gasps, a broken gasp that Myungsoo continues to elicit over and over as he pushes Howon’s hips into a forward-backward motion until his boyfriend is practically fucking his mouth.

“’Soo—ah, ah,’Soo! Mmph, yeah—“ It’s a jumble of words and sounds and it’s the most beautiful sound Myungsoo’s ever heard. Forget about Mozart, he wants to record all of Howon’s little grunts and moans, his gasps and broken stammers.

As Howon continues to fuck his mouth, Myungsoo’s fingers carve themselves deeper into his boyfriend’s ass and they’ve only tried this a few times, but it always leaves Howon so drained and empty by the time that it’s over (but extremely sated and Myungsoo really likes the look on Howon’s face when he’s that satisfied).

He can tell that Howon is close, with the way his breathing is speeding up, with the way his words are starting to become unintelligible, with the way Howon’s cock is running up and down around his throat, with the way the sweat floods down his back and into his ass and Myungsoo’s fingers carve themselves deeper, down there and—

 _There it is,_ Myungsoo thinks and Howon freezes as fingers prod against his opening.

His hips are still, and his cock is hard and thick in Myungsoo’s mouth and Myungsoo’s almost content to leave it at that but he refuses, not when he’s this close, not when he wants to see that look on Howon’s face.

With his finger wet with Howon’s sweat, he pushes the first one in and like a dam cracking against the weight, Howon literally collapses over Myungsoo, his form draped over Myungsoo’s head and over the armrest as he pushes the finger in.

Howon is _goddamngfucking_ tight around his finger and it never fails to leave Myungsoo astounded and aroused as possible. For all the times Howon has bottomed, he’s always so tight it’s like it was his first time and who could possibly resist that? Not Myungsoo, that he knows.

Howon’s thighs are aching and trembling, the muscles bulging as Myungsoo pushes it in some more until his knuckle this the ring around his finger and Myungsoo feels the cock in his mouth tremble and even Myungsoo almost comes at the sight, his own arousal untouched, and Howon sounds like he’s crying and gasping and—

Myungsoo pulls his finger out, slowly, and slams it back in and Howon shouts, hips pushing forward and the head of his length hitting the back of Myungsoo’s throat.

Howon literally shouts and his hips push forward and Myungsoo gets a front-view screening of Howon’s dark pubes and, like the little shit that he is, he keeps pushing it in and out, in and out, over and over until Howon is a crying mess, his thighs literally shaking (and they are shaking as Myungsoo feels them tremble under his hands) and it’s only Myungsoo’s hand up his ass and mouth down his cock that keeps his hips up and Myungsoo pushes it in again—

Myungsoo admits that Howon being pleasured on both ends, body lupine over him, is the best present he could ever receive. _Ever_.

There was so much to say about the way Howon doesn’t even tell him to slow down, doesn’t even tell him to be careful, doesn’t even tell him what he wants, what he doesn’t. Howon just trusts Myungsoo, puts the most vulnerable part of him in Myungsoo’s hands and if Myungsoo wasn’t already in love with Howon, well, he sure was now.

Howon’s body is like power coiled under skin, with the strength of his muscles enervating under Myungsoo’s touch and maybe it’s that surrender, maybe it’s because for all that Howon is strong, at Myungsoo’s touch, he caves and he’s caving now, a broken god playing by his fingers.

And when Howon makes that sound, makes that tiny little broken sound, a subtle crack in his voice, Myungsoo uses his free hand to push Howon back against the opposite end of the couch and with his other hand still inside Howon, Myungsoo crawls over his boyfriend’s sprawled form, sweat dotting every surface of his skin and he takes in Howon’s cock in his mouth and fingers him as fast and hard as he can.

It’s amazing, really, watching Howon lie back there as his body heaves with the pleasure running up his form, watching his chest rise up and down so fast, watch as Howon doesn’t even bother to close his mouth anymore, saliva running down his cheek as helpless, pleasured sounds escape his throat.

It’s when Howon’s hips push upwards with surprising strength that Myungsoo knows he’s coming, when Howon’s eyes pop open and there’s a blown-out blankness to them and the muscle around his finger tightens to crushing intensity and Myungsoo’s mouth is filled with Howon’s taste.

A long, drawn-out moan and then Howon’s body falls back, spent and exhausted.

Myungsoo sits up, swallowing down Howon’s essence as he looks on at his boyfriend’s fucked out form. There’s a beat of silence, punctuated with Howon’s pants and Myungsoo’s breathing, and Howon turns to him, eyes closed and one arm reaches up to gesture at him to come forward.

Myungsoo doesn’t hesitate (hey, he’s a sucker for post-orgasm cuddles and Howon gives great cuddles) in crawling forward, pulling Howon’s boxers back up (he hisses at this and Myungsoo grins), lying on Howon’s sweat-slicked chest and Howon’s kissing and he doesn’t even make a sound at his own taste. He just pulls Myungsoo closer and kisses him, and it’s not sloppy and desperate anymore, but tender and careful and grateful and Myungsoo doesn’t even bother telling himself to stop being such a sop when Howon’s legs wrap around his to pull him tighter.

Myungsoo doesn’t know if it was deliberate or not, but he’s sure that the groan he gives Howon is real as his boyfriend’s leg pushes Myungsoo’s erection against his thighs.

Howon pulls back, and Myungsoo watches the sly grin slowly forming on Howon’s lips. His boyfriend pecks him once, and pecks him again, before he grips Myungsoo’s hips and Myungsoo watches as Howon disappears underneath him and he feels hands down navel and—

 _Ohfuckingyeah_.

**Author's Note:**

> My parents did not send me to a good Catholic university and take up a degree in psychology just to write dirty gay sex.  
> *crosses self*


End file.
